


I Won’t Make it Without You

by mcubeliza



Category: Bellarke - Fandom, The 100
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:39:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcubeliza/pseuds/mcubeliza
Summary: post 605 and how bellamy’s handling losing clarke part two:’)





	I Won’t Make it Without You

“I’m Josephine Lightbourne”—a pause—“Nice to meet you.”

***

It’s the final thought in my head as my eyes shut; and it’s the first thing I remember when they open again.

_Josephine Lightbourne._

I recall watching the girl—Brooke—on the screen, trembling, drenched in sweat, screams filled with fear erupting from the depths of her throat. She scrambled backwards on her hands and feet like a caged animal, backed into a corner. 

They robbed her of her life; just as they had Clarke’s. 

_”People follow you, you inspire them.”_

_I feel a hand—her hand—touch my chest gently. It’s warm, and I want to rest mine against it but I choose opposite as I study her eyes._

_“—because of this.”_

_Clarke—_

_“But the only way to make sure we survive is if you use this, too.”_

_Her fragile, small finger meets my temple, but I’m shaking my head._

_”I’ve got you for that.”_

I’ve got you for that. 

And now I don’t. Again. 

Yet, this time it’s real. Her eyes are not her own, the way she walks, talks—with a higher pitched tone. It’s not Clarke. 

Tears sting at the corners of my eyes as I wake in a dark room, my hands bound in my lap, my ankles wrapped together in a tight knot against the legs of a chair. There’s a thick tape placed across my mouth, sticky against my lips. I’m alone from what I can tell from glancing across the empty walls. 

“Perfect timing.”

Nope, not alone. 

I hear a chair rake across the hard floor like sandpaper, and shallowed footsteps grow louder as they near. It’s Clar—Josephine, I know. 

Suddenly, a hand appears in front of my face, nails reaching underneath of the edge of the tape, ripping it from my skin. The feeling ignites my cheeks in flames and I’m forced to move my jaw around before I can merely speak a word. 

I take Josephine in as she steps in front of me, grinning wickedly from ear to ear. She wastes no time. “Nice to see you’ve recovered.”

 _Recovered_? I want to ask, but I keep my lips sealed, my emotions in check. I have to find an out. However, as I glance up into her eyes, I know my eyes are wild, in what though, I’m not sure—desperation, fear, anxiety—one of the above. 

She’s changed out of Clarke’s clothing, and into some traditional Sanctum dress that reaches past her toes. Her blonde locks are pulled back into some knot that Clarke would never do. I have to think of a plan, but I can’t think of anything as I look at the person who stole my best friend, my confidant, my—the human I love most in this universe.

“You killed her.” The words stutter from my lips as they tremble. My shoulders slump forward and I have trouble swallowing.

Josephine practically snorts, drawing her body lower so that her head is level with mine. She places her hands on the arms of the chair, hovering her face so close to my own that I can feel the heat from her nostrils. Josephine sucks in a breath before answering. “Damn right, I did.”

My heart falls to my feet. 

Josephine scrunches her nose, something I’ve only seen Clarke do once. She retreats, standing up tall and begins to pace before me. 

Nonchalantly, I use my hands bound in my lap—a very strange decision by whomever did so—and reach for my pocket.

”If you want to get technical, my parents did,” Josephine laughs. “They missed me so much—and when opportunity rose?” She gestures towards Clarke’s body. “Well, they just couldn’t help themselves.”

My fingers touch the fabric of my pocket, and I silently swear when I find what I had been seeking.

”Plus,” Josephine continues. “This Ferrari of a body? I’m loving this—I mean just _look_ at these hips!”

It made me ill the way she discusses Clarke’s body, as if it was an object—just another being for her to explore and take advantage of. She doesn’t deserve it. 

As Josephine spins on her heel to turn, I slowly handle the pocket knife tucked in my fist, but as I watch the woman in front of me, I begin to second guess myself. It’s not Clarke, it’s not Clarke—I repeat the words in my head until I’m finally able to do it. 

“Oh my God, Bellamy,” Josephine snorts. “Watching that video today, had me on the floor! Hilarious, top notch comedy, really.”

Not enough to kill her, just in case she’s in there. Somewhere. Just in case.

She runs a hand along Clarke’s arm, lost in her movements as she traces swirls along the freckles. “You know, what, actually?” Josephine meets my eyes again, halting her fingers. “I thought Murphy was pretty cute, at first.” She saunters forward. “But now that I have a full on view, I’m thinking you’re the better choice.”

I blink, dumbfounded, frozen in my skin.

”What were you to Claire, oh oops, _Clarke_ , anyways?” Her eyes are slits, cackling before me. She knows what she’s doing. “Boyfriend? Best friend? Enemy? Lover?” Her eyebrows draw together. I wish I could say anything, but my voice can’t form words. 

This frustrates Clarke’s host, and Josephine’s face tightens. “Silence is deadly, Bellamy Blake.”

It sure is. 

When Josephine turns on her feet again, I take the opportunity to lunge forward, pulling the chair attached to my heels with me. There’s a shriek and a high pitched clatter as I press her against the wall with my chest. 

She’s tiny, my arms wrap around her neck easily, but her hands are free, scratching at my sides. I know I have to work quickly.

With tears in my eyes, cascading down my cheeks in waves, I bend her neck down to the left so that my tied wrists can have access to her shoulder. With one movement, I plunge the knife into her shoulder and she lets out a scream. Within seconds, I yank it out, ready to force it in again—but I find that I can’t bring myself to do it. 

Instead, I shove her away from me and Josephine slides down the wall. I begin to work on my ankles immediately. One by one, I free my limbs from the chair legs, and I awkwardly, yet effectively, free my wrists. 

There is shouting in the distance, loud footsteps coming from up the hall. I spin around, looking for an escape. There’s a window... 

My eyes land on Josephine for a moment too long. A free hand grasps at the wound on her shoulder, black blood seeping through in between her fingers. “Fuck—you,” she manages, spitting at my feet. 

For a second, I think she is going to scramble to her feet and fight back. The corners of her eyes crinkle in disgust, but just for a split second, they twinkle, sky blue—and they soften. Yet as fast as I notice it, is as fast as it’s gone.

Josephine slaps a hand on the floor and I turn and crash through the glass.

No one comes. She almost lets me go. 

***

It takes me too long to recognize where exactly in Sanctum that I was brought. I weave around corners and behind houses, in and out of alleys until I reach the center square. 

As I run, I know the residents of the city glare at me. I’m sweaty, angry, distraught, scurrying across the grounds like a psychotic. Like the eclipse all over again. 

I’m sprinting—choking on sobs as I approach the building where I know the others will reside. I feel my feet pound the ground, smacking the sand, kicking it up behind me. As I near the building; however, the floor hardens, and I look down to tinted grey concrete. When I shift my eyes upwards, the hall is gone. 

The suns disappeared, being replaced by a dark hallway with yellow lights dangling from thin chains on the ceiling—and I’m surrounded by cages. No, not cages—cells. 

My eyes focus on the one beside me. Scribbled in a messy cursive on a whiteboard, dangling half off the wall is a name. An age.

I fall to my knees.

 _Griffin, Clarke. 17._  

I left her behind.

My arms wrap around my body as I hunch forward, trembling in sobs. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Clarke.” I utter the same phrase again and again. My hands find my mouth, covering it as I choke out another loud cry. 

I’m in the Ark, in Clarke’s previous cell. The floor and walls are decorated in chalk drawings of trees, waterfalls, plants of all kinds. Everything we had come to adore on Earth. 

I can’t help but scoot forward into the area, brushing my fingers along the sketches on the concrete. As I run my palm across, the trees go dusty, blurry. I sob harder.

My eyes are drawn to a photo on the wall, Clarke’s artwork stretched along the bricks. In the center, I focus in on a pair of beings—one curly-haired, one straight and long-haired. 

It can’t be—

“Together?”

” _Together_.”

—it can’t be real. I picture her face, shaded yellow, red, and orange with the flames of Praimfaya burning her pale skin. Of the blisters that will form on her cheeks, the black blood dried in her locks. Her suit teared across her body, her screams for help. I did that, I should have waited.  _I left her_ —

“Bellamy!”

 _I left you behind, Clarke, I failed you again and again_ — 

“Bellamy!” 

I jolt at the feeling of a hand on my shoulder, bodies shading the sun from my skin. Suddenly the concrete is sand, and I shake, crouched in a human ball a few yards from the entrance of the building. 

“It’s Clarke,” is all I can manage. “It’s—”

”We know, Bellamy.” It’s Raven. “Murphy told us.”

 _Murphy_?

”She came up to me, and asked me if I wanted to be immortal,” Murphy mutters, a hint of tears in his voice. 

“I just, I don’t know how this could have happened—Clarke was,” Raven starts, and I can’t help but jump to my feet, planting myself in front of my friend, close. I’m angry, too angry... 

My brain is filled to the rim with emotions I don’t even know the names of. I snarl. “Don’t stand here and pretend you care, don’t stand here and act like you didn’t berate her every time she breathed in the same room as you, don’t—”—hands clutch at my shoulders, drawing me away—“—act like you haven’t hated her the moment we came back to Earth, you don’t have a right!” I’m shouting now, and I’ve encouraged a crowd to form around the small circle of us. 

Raven stares, eyes wide, but I don’t give her the time to respond. 

Shaking Echo’s hands from my arms, I march away from Raven, Murphy hot on my heels as I enter the hall.

When we’re safely inside, my eye immediately catches Madi, asleep on the sofa, an open book sitting comfortably on her chest that rises and falls slowly. I let out a shaky breath, turning to Murphy.

”I lost her.” I rub the back of my neck with both hands, then my eyes. “I was supposed to protect her,” I whisper. 

”Bellamy, I—”

”I told her once that nothing was going to happen to her.” I use my arms to gesture around the room, my eyes wide and puffy, my breath hitching. “And look at all that has.”

Murphy contorts his face. He’s thinking. When he opens his mouth, the words I least expect to hear from him fall from his lips. “Bellamy, I’ve seen the way you look— _looked_ , at her when you thought nobody noticed.”

I swallow hard, my throat burning under pressure.

”You loved her?” He phrases it as a question.

Stepping forward, I use my height to my advantage. My face is sticky from the salty tears, and I lick my lips. Beyond Murphy, Raven, Echo, and Emori enter the building, quietly clicking the door shut as to not disturb Clarke’s sleeping daughter. I wonder for a moment how much they heard, then I realize how much I don’t care. “Don’t ask the questions you already know the answer to.”

” _She must be really important to you_.”

” _She is_.”

She was. 

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @mcubeliza or if u just play the video of steve rogers wielding mjolnir i’ll probably hear it in the distance


End file.
